


The Colors Of Love

by Kokkino



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Attack on Space, Art, Color Blind, Color Blindness, Depression, Eren is Happy, Eren is a photographer, Levi is depressed, Levi is grumpy, Levi is sad, M/M, Modern Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan, My first fic, Photography, Sadness, Sneaking pictures, So Many Plans, Underage - Freeform, cannon age, derpieness, eren is a derp, eren is a high school student, eren is an artist, erwin can go away, erwin is a dick in the show, fingers crossed, first fic in this fandom, i hope this is good, levi is color blind, one of many otp, otp, relationships, too cute
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-10-18 15:12:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10619547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kokkino/pseuds/Kokkino
Summary: Levi has always gone through life with a bleak out look on things. To him everything was black and white, in the most literal of senses. He was diagnosed with severe color blindness when he was little and can only see things in varying shades of black, white, and grey. Eren, on the other hand, has always seen the world in its own beauty. He loved the colors of the world, and he was bound and determined to capture every aspect of it. On chance, Eren and Levi meet, and Levi's world topples up side down. Maybe the world is just a bit more colorful than Levi thought.





	1. Chapter 1

Tick tock. Tick tock. Tic- "Levi, you can't avoid my questions forever. The point of these sessions is to help you, and I can't help you if you won't answer my questions." Petra Ral, my psychologist tells me. I glare at her, I'm by no means an idiot. I know what these sessions are intended to do, and I know that I'm not helping myself by avoiding the question. Honestly though, my sight isn’t something I like talking about even if I did sign myself up for this. The fact that I can't see colors is enough of a struggle on its own, let alone with shrinks poking around it.

"Why don't you go without seeing a color your whole life and tell me how you feel about it then? Color is everywhere. Almost every human can see it, everyone knows what they look like. If you couldn't see them, something that is a normality that the world requires, how would you feel then?" She didn't even blink at my hostility. She seemed to have an endless amount of patience.

"It doesn't seem like it would be pleasant. As of right now, from what I can see you're overly stressed and unhappy. Have you considered what I advised you about doing last time you were here? I really do think it will help.”

“Considered it? Not really. Actually going to do it? Absolutely not. I don't see how a moving to a small town or ‘vacationing there‘ is going to help me. I have work. I can't just pack up and leave.” 

Petra seemed to give me the ghost of a victorious smile, “I’ve already gone ahead and talked to your employer. Erwin was kind enough to point out that you are an author and that he doesn’t particularly care what you do as long as you get your writing in. I’ve done some of my own research and found a town that I think will suit you well.” 

She passes me a flyer with a picture of a town sign that says “Welcome to Newberg, a great place to grow.” The photo mainly focuses on the sign, which was painted with, what I think is a vineyard as a background. Around the border, what looks like various fruits and vegetables, had been painted. On one side of the sign, a quaint town is shown, going down what looks like what is probably the main street. On the other side, it shows mountains covered in forestry.

Petra shifts in her large chair and tucks the bangs of her shoulder length hair behind her ear. I once asked her what color her hair and eyes were, and she had replied that people often said that her hair was a honey like blond and her eyes were a brown.

I may not be able to see the colors and I never will be able too, but that doesn’t mean that I can't hear about them. The words hold no meaning, but I desperately cling to any hope I have at living a normal life, as mundane as it may seem it’s true. No person enjoys being different. Humans are creatures of habit and routine. We all crave things to go smoothly with no bumps in the road. I know that more than anyone. 

Too many times I have been cast aside or singled out as a freak or a “bump” in someone's otherwise smooth life. I try to live with my sight the best I can, but there are some things that I can't do. I can’t ever tell someone that their eyes are a beautiful color, or solve a rubix cube, or so many other things that seem trivial but honestly make the world of difference. 

It’s time for a change. Even if it’s as drastic as moving across the continent. I am sick of my life here. There's no joy or happiness in my dull life. I have no motivation or inspiration here. 

I look back up at Petra and slowly nod at her. A grin lights up her face and asks me, “Really? You’re actually going to do it?” 

“Do you think I’d still be sitting here nodding my head like an idiot if I wasn’t?”

Per usual, my sarcastic and blunt nature seemed to have absolutely no effect on her smiley persona. Does this woman ever get put off by anything?

“Levi, I really think this is going to do you some good. You need a change and I think this is the perfect thing.” She tells me.

So you do Petra, but is it really? I suppose there's really only one way to find out, and by God I hope she’s correct on this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> exploring the town

*Four weeks later*   
I look at what is to be my apartment for the next however long I actually decide to stay in this town. The front door opens into a small entry way, with a wall running down my left hand side with two doors on it. I open the first one, the one closest to the door, and it turns out to be a small coat closet. I walk the short distance to the second door and open it. It leads into the only bedroom in the apartment. One bedroom won't be a problem considering there is no one who will visit me let alone want to stay the night.   
I grab my suitcase and set it inside my room and then walk out and close my door. I can unpack at a later time. There are things I need to finish first. I open the last door, which is on the wall facing the door, and find the medium sized half bath. One shitter, one sink, and one mirror. I walk back out into the living space and gaze at the the rest of the apartment. It’s an open concept floor plan so that’s good. There's a decent sized kitchen on one wall, with a good sized island in it. Over in the corner there's a sliding glass door that opens into a nice sized balcony. That's going to be a bitch to clean, but it’s nice enough I suppose. I go back into my room and pull out my bandannas. I do not care how clean they say it is, it’s not clean enough. I can not see colors. That does not mean that I can't see filth. I have no idea who lived here before me or what unsanitary things they may have done here. The landlord said the place had been cleaned, but I merely sneered at him. It most certainly is not to my standards.  
***  
Some hours later I sit down on the couch and look around again at my apartment. I cleaned the entire place from top to bottom. I look at the clock that adorns my wall and it reads “2:23 P.M” It’s mid May, and the heat here doesn’t seem to be unbearable, and I’m out of tea. A walk through town to find a decent place that sells tea shouldn’t be too bad. But first I need a shower. I walk back into my bedroom and grab a towel and a change of clothes and head into the attached bathroom to start a shower.  
I feel hot and sticky with sweat so I leave the temperature on lukewarm in a futile attempt to cool myself down and not freeze my ass off. The water thankfully doesn’t take too long to get to an acceptable temperature. I quickly strip from my disgusting clothing and place them into the laundry basket that I had placed in the corner of the bathroom while I had been cleaning and unpacking earlier. I pull back the curtain to the shower and quickly step in, careful to avoid spraying the floor with water creating an unnecessary mess.   
The shower is my safe space and always has been. It’s quiet and allows me to think clearly. It’s a clean space where I can clean myself. Humans are disgusting creatures. We contract so many germs and bacteria in such a short amount of time, it’s truly repulsive. How a person can live in such filth is beyond my comprehension. On second thought no it’s not. What is beyond my comprehension is why someone would choose to ignore it and continue living their lives as if nothing is wrong, while they are covered in so many unsanitary things.  
Shower thoughts. Always random, but not always a pleasant topic. I quickly twist the handle on the shower, turning the water off. I run a hand through my short hair squeezing some of the excess water out from the longer hair at the top. My hair, explained in simple terms has longer hair at the top and is then sectioned off so the top layer remains slightly long, and the underneath layers, from the nape of my neck to the crown of my head are shaved into a military buzz. The under cut is the shortest part, while the longest, my bangs, reaches to about my cheek bone.  
I grab a towel off of the hanging rack and wipe off most of the water and wrap it around my waist. Once I’m sure that I am no longer dripping water, I walk over to the sink. A small sized thing with a single rectangular mirror hanging above it. I stare into my reflection and look myself in the eyes. I will never be able to know what color they are, or what color my hair is, or even my skin. Sure people will tell me that my hair is black and my eyes are grey, while my skin is white, but I will never know for myself. I will never know exactly what I look like. I’ll never know what I look like with a blush adorning my narrow face, or how my thin down turned brows will compare to my hair. I will never know what any of these things will look like, and to me, that is truly heart breaking. People tell me the names of colors, but the words hold no value to me. They’re empty words with no meaning because I can't put a picture to a word.  
If you asked me I could fill pages and pages with different colors, and colors that go well together, purely based off of what others have told me. What if I truly hate blue and gold together or some other meaningless color combination? I will never know. I can only take someone’s word for it, and I hate that. I have to be so dependent upon people to tell me about things that they really shouldn’t. I hate having to depend on others. But for me, that will never change no matter how much I wish and dream of it.  
Whatever. It’s not going to change so I need to just get dressed and leave to get my damn tea. I grab a simple black button up with short sleeves, and a plaid flannel to go over top. Simple black jeans and some black high top vans are all I need before I head out the door. I am 34, not 14. I don't need to take forever on a shitty outfit that I don't care about in order to impress shitty people that I also do not give a single fuck about. Comfort and function. I won't say I look trashy but I am definitely not dressed to impress.   
I grab my keys, wallet, cleaning wipes and hand sanitizer out of their designated spot in the bowl on the coffee table and head out. Unfortunately my apartment is on the third floor, so that means I get to take the stairs everyday. There may be an elevator, but dealing with sweaty people in disgustingly close quarters out ways any complaints that I may have about using stairs.   
All of the apartments doors are outside, following a small covered pathway wrapping around the outside of the building. Standing in front of my door facing out, going to the left, leads down the hall towards the elevator. Going to the right leads to the end of the hall where the beginning of the stairs are. It’s a fairly small complex so the third floor is the top. The stairs only lead down; thankfully the stairs aren’t too bad, but I still take care to avoid touching anything.   
Getting out the the main road isn’t any trouble, seeing as how you can see it from the parking lot. As I walk into town I pay attention to my surroundings, looking at the town. It doesn’t seem to be overly large, but it has a fair amount of inhabitants. Walking into town, going against the flow of American traffic, isn’t a bad walk at all. To my left, before getting to the shopping part, there's a large park, where the sign reads, ‘Hoover Park.’ It’s a large park, with a large expanse of trees, and a nice creek as well as a small frisbee course. When first going in, it’s a steep walk, the slope of the hill being large, but at the bottom it’s fairly flat, and over all seems like a nice park.  
There aren’t many people. In fact, there only seems to be a single couple in the park right now. Is a Saturday, the afternoon, and nice weather as well. If the population of the park remains as quiet as this most of the time, I can certainly see this a spot that I’ll spend a lot of my time writing.   
I continue my voyage into the town, but after the park there doesn’t seem to be many places. The first place I see for a coffee shop, is “Coffee cottage.” I may be a block away, but I can see the expanse of people coming in and out of it, cars filling the lot, and the spots along the street. Most of the people I can see look to be about college age, which makes sense, considering while I was looking at a map earlier, I noticed a college near bye. The map identified the collage as George Fox.I prefer to know a little bit about where I am, so I decided to do a little research on the town before I moved here. From what I read online, I learned that George Fox is a private christian school, that was fairly strict on the religious aspect.  
Dealing with college students doesn't sound enjoyable, ever, so I think I’ll keep walking. Many of the stores seem to be little gift shops, or antique stores. I’ve always held a soft spot for vintage things. The history behind them is always so fascinating. There seems to be a fair amount of restaurants as well. It seems to range over a large amount of cultures, from Spanish, to Asian and others.  
The next coffee shop I come across is Chapters. It looks like a book store, coffee shop combination. It seems extremely popular and crowded so I mentally veto it from my options. The town seems to love old culture from the amount of old buildings, and vintage shops to there are. I soon come across the historic Cameo. It’s an old movie theater that has all original interior and exterior. It prides itself in having everything be original from when it first opened in 1937. They say the only thing that has changed is the projector, movies, and food.   
Nearing the end of town, I look down a street to my left, and see a shop that calls itself the Coffee Cat. From what I can see it looks like a small shop, with a vintage touch. All in all it looks fairly nice and so far the only place that has captured my interest. I turn down the small street and walk the short distance to the building.  
The exterior is nice and simple. It has a large glass front, the building is placed higher than the sidewalk, so there's a small step in front of the door that is level with the bottom of the entirely glass front wall and door. The inside looks a bit dimmer, with only a few occupants. Outside there are two wrought iron tables with a few chairs each. They’re placed on either side of the doors. So far it seems perfect.  
I tentatively push open the door, and it swings gently open with a small musical jingle. I look around to try and place where the sound came from and see a small string of sleigh bells hanging on a ribbon tied to the door. The interior is a small space decorated with an array of paintings and mixed matched furniture. Immediately the smells in the small shop surround me in a warm, rich aroma. There's a large wood table that sits higher than average in the center of the main room, and behind it, farther into the building, there is a small sitting area littered with what looks like comfortable low sitting chairs and couches.   
I walk over to the large counter, that sits on the left of the door, and look up at the extensive drink menu that is hanging on the wall. One of the baristas looks up from restocking the display case of food, and I hear her quietly mutter to her coworker “Don’t eat anything Sasha, just finish up while I help someone. Don't think that I won't tell Pixis to dock what you eat out of your pay again.” the girl, Sasha I’m assuming, groans and slowly continues where the other girl left off. The barista stands up and walks over to me with a blank expression. When she reaches me I look at her and realize that I’m taller than her. I won’t humor myself and say that I’m not short because I am. I stand at five feet and three inches, so as a male, it often has been a bit of a sore subject for me. To find someone shorter than me is a rarity.   
“Welcome to the Coffee Cat, what would you like?” the girl asks me in a monotone voice. I look at her and notice that her name tag reads Annie.  
“Earl grey please,” I grunt back at her in a similar tone.  
“Here or to go?”  
“Here.”  
“Name for that?”  
“Levi,” is the short answer I give back. She doesn’t bull shit around, and she doesn’t make any attempt to try and make small talk which I appreciate.   
“That will be $2.50. You get one free refill just bring the cup back up when you’re ready.”  
I reach into my back pocket and grab my leather wallet and pull out three dollars and tell her not to worry about the change. She grunts in acknowledgement and turns on her heel and grabs a medium sized teacup and saucer that don’t match, but seem to go along with the mixed matched theme of the shop. She grabs a loose tea leaf strainer, and fills it with loose tea leaves, which surprises me. Most coffee shops don't use loose leaves. Typically they would use a pre made tea bags that are manufactured in a factory and leave behind a chemical after taste, which is repulsive.  
Annie turns back around and hands me the cup and saucer with the strainer sitting on the side of the saucer, without a second glance. I take it from her and turn around from the counter to try and find a private or, secluded place. I quickly spot a small alcove in the wall that I hadn't noticed before. It sits within the wall and has two Victorian armchairs that seated on either side of a decent sized round wood table. No one is sitting there so I deftly make my way there to claim the small space.  
I pull out my sanitary wipes and quickly disinfect the table. There's not anything I can do as for the chair, which is a shame, but at least it looks relatively clean. I sink into the soft velvet cushions.  
Soft music is playing and I recognize it as White Lie, by The Lumineers. (x) I hear the soft jingle of the door opening, and several voices can be heard, but I ignore them in favor of soaking my tea leaves.   
“Then it's just a little white lie,  
Then it's all the same to me  
And it's just a little white lie  
If I was to blame would you?  
Would you still believe?”  
The words are soft and float around me in beat with the familiar song. I go to take a drink of my tea, ignoring the handle in favor of gripping the top of the cup. I take a small sip and let out a small hum of approval and bring my elbow down on the table, letting it rest there, the tea cup still in hand. I look up at the painting that is hanging in front of me on the small wall of the alcove. It looks like it’s a world map made of coffee beans, I think. It’s certainly different, but I suppose in a way it matches.  
While I’m looking at the painting, I hear a camera shutter and flash go off in my direction. I whip my head in the direction of the culprit, and for the first time in a very long time, words fail me as my eyes come to reside on a man so attractive, that the entirety of my writing career fails me as no words come into my mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. This was so much fun to write! I never thought about how much you use colors in description, so writing from Levi's pov in this color blind au is a challenge, but a fun one. As you guys will learn, comments and kudos always encourage me to continue writing, so don't be shy to shoot me with a comment. Who do you guys think the photographer is? Lol I think I made it pretty obvious, but I'm curious as to who you guys think it'll be. As always, thanks for reading and I'll see you in the next chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! So this is my first Fanfic ever, so I really hope ya'll like it! Please keep the comment section nice, and if you have any criticism, please make sure that it's constructive criticism. I sadly do not have my own computer so my updates will be fairly slow, but I will do my best to write as much as I can!


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